Thoughts begin to shift like puzzle pieces in my brain. At the castle, Germ accused Neil of trying to have us killed. Neil said it wasn’t Red December. He said he didn’t know who it was. He knows it wasn’t us, the guy talking to Hayes said. He thinks there’s a real cell at work.
Dad tosses the pen down and walks into the living room. I scoot the paper over and look at Hayes through the doodles. Either way, we win.
I turn the pages, searching for the face of the other man. It’s difficult to see now that they’ve been scribbled over with blue ink. Finally, I find him in a small photo on page 3. In the caption is his name: Richard Tremblay, Governor Solomon’s chief of staff.
The last puzzle piece clicks into place.
They set up the attack on Patriot Day so people would agree to sign up for Skylar.
“Dad,” I say, pushing myself up from the table. “I think I figured something—” But the words catch in my throat as my chest burns with ice. All I hear is static. My eyes cloud over and a girl’s voice says, “I don’t know.” I see a dark outline of her hair, but it’s like looking through fogged-up glass. I feel Danny there, too, but it’s different this time. Instead of him pushing me out of the way, we’re both trying to stand in the same space. My skin feels tight. Cold shivers through me. Then the fog clears and my eyes begin to focus.
I’m in a room. Another kitchen. The walls pulse and everything glows with a halo. Books lie open on the table. She’s leaning toward me, her hand on my knee, her face inches from mine.
“Danny?! Danny, no!”
Her voice hits me like a sledgehammer. It’s the other Eevee. She doesn’t want him to go.
I push against him, knock him back so hard it knocks me back, too. As I fall, I feel the tightness leave me. I land hard on the floor, my chest rippling with cold. Mom and Dad kneel beside me.
She doesn’t want him to leave. What if he wants to stay?
What happens when he comes back and finds his whole world upside down?
After the near jump, Mom wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She wanted to call for an ambulance, but Dad talked her out of it. He understood what had happened. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” he said, and promised her we’d call the doctor in the morning. I did my own part, convincing her that I was tired (true) and hungry (also true). The grilled cheese sandwich and OJ did make me feel better. So did telling them what I overheard at the gala and what I thought it might mean.
“I certainly wouldn’t put it past them,” Mom said, keeping her voice below the classical music.
Dad agreed. “Can’t do much about it locked up inside, though.”
So we waited all day for them to announce the end of the lockdown, but the broadcast never came.
Outside, the street is finally quiet. Inside, we’re quiet, too. Dad pats my knee twice before pushing himself up from his end of the couch and stretching. He kisses Mom, who’s dozing in the chair, and says, “Go to bed.”
She yawns. “Have you been keeping an eye on Danny?”
“Danny’s fine. It’s late. Get some rest.”
She squeezes his hand, and he goes down the hall. We listen in silence to the sounds of him getting ready for bed. “You scared me today,” Mom says, her eyes drooping. Then she rests her head on her hand and sighs. “Wouldn’t be the first time, though.”
“Really?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, young man. You know you love giving me a heart attack every chance you get.” She shifts in her chair and crosses her feet. Her voice is sleepy. “I remember when you were two. You were as cute as a button, running around the backyard with Holly. Aw, Holly.” She puts a hand on her chest. “Miss that dog. Anyway, you found a stick and decided it would be really great to run with it in your mouth. Do you remember what happened?”
I cringe. “I fell?”
She slaps her hands together to show the impact. “Oh, the screaming. Yours and mine. You scraped up your soft palate pretty bad. Lucky that’s all you did. And would you believe we caught you doing the exact same thing a week later?” She shakes her head. “I swear, you and your father. So much alike.”
“You and I are alike, too,” I say, setting my foot by hers. “Look. Same toes.”
She scoots hers forward until they touch.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I’ll live.” She taps her foot on mine, then pushes herself up. I scramble to help her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.
I hate lying to her, but it’s for the best. “I’m sure.”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning.” She lets me help her as far as the hall, then takes it from there.
I sit back on the couch and wait, looking at my toes, wishing I had time to hear all of her stories. When I’m sure they’re both asleep, I pull on my shoes and sweatshirt, and slip quietly from the house. The way I see it, I have one last chance, and I’d better not waste it.
With classes canceled and students confined to the dorms, all I’ve been able to do since I got here is stare at the walls. I tried painting, but it’s like the life has been drained from my hands.
Outside my window, campus lies dark and still. It’s hard to believe there’s anything bad going on at all. Kierland always has been its own kind of bubble. I watch for signs of life, then let the blinds slip back into place and flop onto the bed.
I miss the flame-haired girl, with her daring eyes. Is she still hanging in the gallery? I bet the Art Guild took her down. Too dangerous. People might see her and feel dangerous. They might ask questions or think for themselves. Anger flickers up inside me. I shouldn’t have left her there.
Two soft taps at the door startle me. I rush around the room, turning all the paintings over to their safe sides, then pull my robe closed over my pajamas before answering.
Seeing him makes me catch my breath. I try to close the door but he stops it with his hand. He looks awful, like he crawled here on his knees. “I had to see you,” he says.
“Why, so you can lie to me some more?”
“Please, just hear me out. There’s something I need you to know. Then I’ll go and you’ll never see me again.”
We stare at each other. My feet feel like they’re bolted to the floor. He looks away first, up and down the hallway. “Please.”
“You have thirty seconds.”
He swallows and nods. “At the gala, I overheard Senator Hayes talking to your dad’s chief of staff.” Then he launches into yet another crazy story, this one about the government setting up a fake terrorist group to attack the city and make people so afraid that they’ll want to sign up for Skylar.
“I can’t believe I’m even listening to this,” I say, pushing against the door. “You’re delusional.”
“It’s true,” he says. “Everything I’ve told you is true. Ask Germ. He and Danny were working for Red December the morning of the attack, but then we found out they weren’t—”
“What?” My hand lets go and the door swings inward. “You’re involved with Red December?”
“No.” He holds up his hands. “The other Danny was. But what I’m saying is, Red December doesn’t exist.”
“Unbelievable.” My voice is loud but I don’t even care anymore. “I’m sure the families of the people who died would love to hear that.” I grab my phone and press the button to call security. Then I slam the door and let my forehead fall against it, my eyes squeezed shut, my fingers still gripping the knob.
“I’m leaving, Eevee,” he says, his voice right there on the other side. “When they turn on Skylar, it’ll send me back to my world. I’ve been fighting to stay here. But I’d rather be there, where I have nothing, than be here, where I have everything except you.”
Shouting fills the hallway. I crack open the door because I have to know, but nothing could have prepared me for what I see. Danny’s skin is pale, his eyes glazed, and he’s trembling.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
“This guy bothering you?�
� one of the security guys asks. The other looks like he doesn’t know if he should tackle Danny or call for an ambulance.
“He…he’s one of them. He’s with Red December.” My voice sounds far away.
Danny falls to his knees. His wide eyes stare unblinking into the ceiling. It’s like he’s possessed or something. He pounds his fist against the floor and the guards step back. Then he pounds the floor a second time and the trembling stops. He looks up, startled, like he’s seeing all of this for the first time.
“Get back inside,” the security guard barks.
I take one last look at Danny and press the door closed. Sinking to the floor, I listen to them struggle. A door slams. Everything goes silent.
He’s gone.
I bolt for the stairs, but the guards are right on my tail. Their footsteps pound above me, echoing through the stairwell. Where did they come from? Did Eevee call them? I throw open the door and run into the night, my lungs still seized with cold.
Visions of the other world swim in my eyes: lying on the floor of the garage at the foster home, clinging to the bumper of Brent’s truck, wading through the mess of tools and tangled power cords. Danny’s in bad shape there. Whatever’s going on, if I jump now, I’ll land in the middle of it, and it won’t be good.
As if this is any better.
I race through the shadows, avoiding lit sidewalks, but I know they’re watching. There’s no hiding now. Like a huge hand, Spectrum has me in its grip. I run with everything I’ve got, but what I’ve got doesn’t get me far. A mile, maybe two, down deserted streets, past empty neighborhoods and dark parking lots. Lost in a part of the city I’ve never seen. Each step forces the air from my lungs. I press forward through the pain, imagining them watching, from one camera to the next, seeing how long I’ll last.
When they’ve seen enough, they swoop in with guns drawn.
As if I could put up a fight. My strength is gone. They have to lift me into the back of the truck so they can cart me off to wherever they lock up terrorists and boys who don’t belong.
All I wanted was a crack at a normal life: hug my parents, have a best friend, get the girl. But I don’t belong here, and this world knows it. Soon I’ll be dumped like a defect and sent back to where I came from.
When they finally open the truck’s doors, the city is gone, replaced by dusty roads and mountain foothills. Strong hands reach for me, pull me from the truck, lead me to a single-story building lying low in its surroundings. Amber lights along the path give hardly any light. The stars shine down on me, cold and uncaring.
One officer holds the door while another pushes me through. Inside, the fluorescent-lit hallways are stark white. As they’re booking me, the cold returns and images from the other world flicker in my eyes. I see an unfamiliar room. It’s messy. Moving boxes stacked around. Whiteboards with diagrams and scribbled words. WORMHOLE. EMP. GRAVITY. I see the other Eevee’s face, close to mine, her lips moving.
The camera’s flash pulls me back. The one with the gruff voice tells me to hold still. Another flash and I’m pushed into a room with white walls. Chains clang against the tile as they shackle my feet to the floor. Like I could run. Like I’d want to. I have no reason to fight, no reason to stay. Time toys with me, seeing how long I’ll last.
“Come on, Danny,” I whisper when they’re gone, my throat catching on the words. I can feel him there on the other side, a thin web between us. What is he waiting for? “It’s your life. Take it.”
He must hear me, because like that, cold grips my chest. My arms buck against their bindings. I force myself to relax, to breathe, to let go. Blinding white gives way to swirling dark. Pressure crushes down, and I’m falling again, leaving everything I love behind.
The landing knocks me down hard. For a moment I think I won’t breathe, but reflex kicks in and my lungs expand. Oxygen rushes my brain. Blind, I reach out, down. Rocks? Gravel? I lift my face and blink the world into focus.
Her dark eyes peer into mine. But it isn’t her. It’s the other one. I look down at my arms, see the scars and know.
It’s over.
My legs stumble forward, break into a run, carry me away into the night.
I’ve sat so long with my back against the door that I can no longer feel my legs. I imagine my body turning to stone, a creeping numbness moving up from my toes. If I wait long enough, it’ll still my heart and deaden my brain. Then I won’t ever have to feel or think again.
But a knock startles me, sparking life back into my limbs. I lean over, trying not to make any sound, and peer under the door. All I see is a pair of black shoes. They aren’t Danny’s. Security? They don’t look like something a guard would wear.
The shoes move, replaced by hands, then eyes. I gasp and slide back. There’s a harsh whisper from the other side. “Open. The. Door.”
When I look again, it’s back to shoes. Then the whisper: “Eevee.”
I barely have the knob turned when Warren pushes himself through, closing the door behind him. “You’re not going to believe this.” He lowers his voice. “They arrested Danny.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I’m the one who turned him in.”
He drops his face into his hands and groans. “No, no, no.”
“He told me about Red December.”
He looks up. “So he knows? Did he tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
In one long, breathless spiel, he recounts the same story Danny told, about Red December, the government and Skylar. Even the part about Danny being from another world.
“How do you know all that?”
“Because I know things.”
“But what proof do you have that any of it is true?”
He pulls out his phone, touches a button and holds it out for me to read. “How about Senator Hayes being arrested on corruption charges?”
“What?” I grab the phone and read the news alert, my mind spinning. I can’t believe it.
“Their whole scheme is unraveling,” Warren says. “Get dressed. We need to go.”
“Where?”
He walks to the door. “To get Danny out of jail.”
“But…” Warning sirens sound in my head. “We need a ride. I’ll call Jonas.”
“No need,” he says, opening the door. “He’s waiting at the curb.”
“Not a spy spy,” Warren says, sitting next to me in the backseat of Jonas’s car. “I’m just a guy with connections. I know people who know things.”
“And you?” I ask, looking at Jonas in the rearview. “You’re a spy, too?”
“Nope.” He steers onto the freeway. “I’m just a man with a car.”
“But you of all people could actually be a spy,” I say. “You must hear everything.”
He doesn’t respond.
“When things started ramping up with Skylar,” Warren says, “I knew I needed someone on the inside I could trust. I did some digging and found out the governor is the only Arizona official with his own driver. I pulled some strings and got myself a secure introduction.”
“The castle.” My head falls back against the seat. “You used me to get to him.”
“Well, I needed a study partner, too. Wouldn’t have passed that art history test without you.”
“Liar.”
He smirks.
“But Red December’s been around forever,” I say, still trying to wrap my brain around it. “They’ve even arrested members, haven’t they?”
“It was all set up. Scattered cells of petty criminals and disgruntled kids enticed with bribes of contraband and promises of fighting the system. No one ever knew who was pulling the strings.”
“Which are you? Petty criminal or disgruntled kid?”
“What do you think?”
I glance over my shoulder out the window. An SUV driven by Neil, the guy with black hair from the castle, follows close behind. Germ sits in the passenger seat. Warren said there are more helpers in the back, includ
ing Danny’s dad. “I think after this we’ll all be labeled criminals.” I turn back around and my hands fidget. There’s one question still unanswered, but I’m too afraid to ask. I don’t even want to think it.
“Try him again,” Warren says.
I sigh and dial Dad’s number. It’s gone to voice mail every time so far. I get ready to leave another desperate message, but instead Dad’s voice says, “Yeah.”
I sit up. “Dad. It’s Eevee—”
“Honey,” he interrupts, “I can’t talk right now. All hell is breaking loose.” And he hangs up. I set the phone on the seat.
“That’s a no?” Warren asks.
“That’s a no.”
“Right, then. We’re on our own.”
It’s an insane plan, and when they catch us at it, I’m going to hide in the corner and cry. Maybe the judge at my sentencing will be someone who was appointed by—and likes—my dad. I look at Mr. Ogden crouched beside me outside the Gateway Detention Center. The family resemblance is strong. “You believe what he said is true?” I whisper. “About being from somewhere else?”
“I know it is.” His eyes are sharp but his voice is kind.
How is that possible? I think again about meeting Danny those three separate times. What if they weren’t random? What if there’s some force out there, pushing us toward each other? Or maybe something inside, drawing us together? Like thirsty paper pulling watercolor into its fibers, or a dry brush taking in ink.
“Okay,” Warren says, joining us in the bushes. “Once we get the signal, we’re going to have a very small window. Neil and his crew will create the disturbance and cut the power. That’ll be our chance to get in, get him and get out. Remember, if they come after us, we head for separate exits. Are you guys ready?”
Ready? To break into a jail? How would I ever be ready for that?
I nod.
The jail is tucked away in the foothills of the White Tanks, about forty minutes outside of town. It’s empty out here. And dark. We sit in silence—except for our breathing—and wait. Seconds tick by into minutes. My legs burn from crouching and my hands shake with adrenaline and fear.
While You Were Gone Page 18
